


Act of Contrition

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Series: Tumblr Fics [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Priest Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:38:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Bro, you know that thing you tagged about being into it with the people fucking and reciting psalms at one another? That should be a fic. Stiles is the church-going Sunday-school-volunteer teacher because his dad is super devout. Peter is the pastor. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned" ensues. You should write that. Just saying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Act of Contrition

**Author's Note:**

> The steps of Reconciliation are a little out of order. Sorry, bros.

Stiles walked into the confessional - which wasn’t even a confessional. The Monsignor was in the actual little enclosure. Father Hale, the new priest, there to learn the ropes before he replaced old Monsignor O’Connell, had been pushed into a more recent fixture which featured not only a screen to hide behind but also a small walkway between, that would allow you to sit beside the priest and tell him all your sins as you looked him in the eye.

Stiles hated that, and so he always favored the traditional confessional. However Monsignor O’Connell’s line had stretched five kids back, and he was forced to endure Father Hale. He hadn’t even wanted to perform Penance, as it was his Sunday class’s First Reconciliation, but Katherine Macy, one of the more precocious eight year olds in his class, had insisted very loudly.

So, there he was. Prepared for his Penance, he was certainly not anxious like this was his first time. No, of course not. This was just Father Hale. He was just going to be alone with Father Hale - no one watching them, alone.

He made to kneel behind the screen. He hadn’t spoken yet - there was no way for Father to have recognized him - but the man said, “Stiles?”

Heat flushed through him, body tensing, a blush settling in his cheeks and on his neck at the silky smooth tone. “Yes, Father?”

"Don’t bother with that. Come sit with me." he said, and Stiles could tell it wasn’t a request, but he’d never had something demanded of him so calmly before. 

"I…" he stalled, trying to compose himself. "I prefer to kneel, Father." He tried to sound firm, with limited success.

"I’m sure you do." Father said, sounding amused. Stiles assured himself he was reading into that too much. "But I prefer to look at you. Come here."

So, Stiles stood and walked around the partition to where Father Hale was seated in some plain wooden chair, sprawled out and draped over it like it was a throne. He looked regal - and Stiles was fairly certain priests were not supposed to look regal. He sat beside him regardless and kept his eyes down.

He made a quick sign of the cross and returned his hands to his lap. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been seven days since my last confession.” 

Father Hale shifted in his seat, legs unfolding, straightening into Stiles’s space. He  _hmm_ ed, low and soft in his throat. “Only one week?” he murmured, and Stiles’s eyes flashed up at the unorthodox response. He saw Father staring at him intently, calculating, and quickly lowered his gaze. He could practically hear the smugness in his voice when he asked, “Why so soon? Have you done something particularly  _sinful_  that’s forced your heavy conscience to me?”

A little more than offended, Stiles looked up at him finally, decisively, his displeasure evident on his face. “The children in my class asked me to go - and I always attend monthly sacrament with my father. I’m seeing  _you_ because your line was shorter than Monsignor’s.” and Stiles knew he shouldn’t get in a fight with this priest - that was very clearly a  _bad_  thing to be doing, especially during Penance - but Father Hale just grinned.

"Yes, I’ve found that some children find me off-putting at first. It’s an unfortunate quality in a priest - but I grow on people." and he eyed Stiles meaningfully. Stiles ignored it.

"Can I go on?"

"Of course," Father Hale smiled, like he was indulging him. "God’s listening."

"I got into an argument with my dad for no reason. I made fun of a customer at work with my supervisor. And I lied three times."

"Only three?" Father Hale asked, clearly seeing through him, which made no sense because Stiles was a fantastic liar - hence his trouble with the act.

He huffed. “I lied three times about  _serious_ things. There were countless other smaller lies - I don’t keep track of those.”

"A lie’s a lie, Stiles." Father Hale told him dutifully, but it seemed more joking, more put on, and it made Stiles want to clench his jaw and fists.

Going on anyway, he said, “I also blasphemed at least forty-eight times. Probably more.”

"And, why so many?"

"Can’t seem to kick that habit either." 

Father Hale clucked his tongue but said nothing. He waited for the young man to continue.

"That’s it." Stiles said. "It’s only been a week - like you said. I’m sorry for these and all of my sins."

"Now, you don’t expect me to believe that, do you?" Father Hale asked, face twisting into some disappointed frown. "A young man like you certainly racks up more than that over the course of a week. Over the course of day, even." and he continued when Stiles hesitated. "I’m not faint of heart like the good Monsignor. You can tell me anything."

"You mean like… " and Stiles paused and lowered his voice for effect, " _Murder?_ ”

Father Hale looked delighted. “Oh, if only you had committed some heinous crime. I’d love to have you confide such a thing in me.”

"I’m not  _confiding_ in you.” Stiles snapped. “I’m using you as a vessel to God for absolution. Jesus, maybe  _you_  need to be in my class.”

"That would make your new total forty-nine, Stiles." the priest told him, beyond pleased. "My, my, how many sins are you going to perform with me in this room?"

And that was it. That was too weird, and the Father’s tone was too flirty to mean anything else. Stiles felt that deep flush creeping back over him, clouding his thinking. He tried to evade the question, saying, “What are you even talking about?”

Father Hale moved in his seat, molten and smooth, sliding to the edge so his knee could brush against Stiles’s leg. “My darling child,” he said, “I’m simply trying to get to the root of your troubles.” His hand came down to grip Stiles’s thigh, bracing himself close. Stiles could feel the man’s touch searing his skin through his pants, heating its way up his leg.

"I - I don’t - "

"I can see it all over your face - the way you look at me. I can practically  _smell_ it on you. Sweet young thing, cant keep your hands off yourself. And who could blame you?”

And, oh no, did that work for him. The priest’s hand was creeping up, up, up about to reach where he was close to aching painfully all of a sudden. He wanted to bring his own hands down to soothe - but felt like he’d just be proving the Father’s point. Instead, he pressed his legs together tight and laid a stopping hand on the priest’s. He choked out a shaky, “Father, I’m not sure - “

"What do you think about? How often? It’s no sin if you tell me." he promised.

“ _Father -_  ”

The priest brushed aside Stiles’s hand with his own and gripped both his thighs, sliding them apart just so. He was strong and guiding and Stiles was pretty sure this was not God’s work. “Do you think of me?”

"Of course not!" Stiles almost yelled, and Father shushed him like a child. " _Of course not_.” he harshed. “That - Do you know how  _wrong_ that is?” and he bit off any other words because Father Hale had found his cock, cupping around it, shifted his body even closer. 

"You’re the one hard in Confession. You tell me." and he looked so smug, like he thought he’d won. Stiles took a deep breath.

"The kids are waiting for me. There’s a line of children who still need to see you. People will wonder what’s taking so long."

"Are you saying you want me to send you out like this?" Father Hale asked. He was about to take his hand away but Stiles stopped him again.

"I’m saying that we have to be quick if you’re serious." he hissed - and there it was. Finally, a look of something besides self-satisfaction flashed across the man’s face. He looked surprised for only the briefest of moments, and Stiles would cherish and remember that expression forever, even if Father schooled the look away quickly.

"How good are you at multitasking?" Father Hale asked seriously.

"The best." Stiles bragged, smiling. Father was getting out of his chair and gracefully dropping to his knees before the young man, spreading his thighs even wider, pulling his hips forwards in the chair. "Oh my God," Stiles gasped.

“ _I am sorry for my sins.._.” Father prompted, undoing Stiles’s zipper. He helped Stiles sit up for a second to ease his pants down more.

"I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choose - " Father Hale pulled out his cock with his hot hand, and Stiles mouth fell open. He blinked and swallowed as the priest ran his thumb along the tip and looked up at him expectantly. He started again shakily. "In choosing to do wrong and f - " His hands needed something to hold, and he settled with the bottom of his chair, knowing he couldn’t mess up the Father’s hair if he wanted him decent for the next sinner. " _Failing_ to do good, I have -  _ah_  - “

Father Hale kissed the head, just lightly. His tongue laved at the slit, eyes closing a little as he lapped up a bead of precome. “I  _said_ we have to be quick.” Stiles snapped once he could breathe. Father Hale pulled off, looking a bit displeased to be rushed.

"You’re a bossy one, aren’t you?"

Stiles widened his eyes meaningfully and gestured down to his dick.

Father sighed and took it back in his hands. “ _I have sinned against you…_ " 

"I have sinned against you, whom I should love above all things, and your - " and he was once again cut off by his own inability to speak. However, this time, he made an embarrassingly loud, high pitched sound, back in his throat, because Father, in one movement, had swallowed down his cock. Stiles thought he might come then and there. " _Your church_.” he grit out in a tight voice, and then let out a soft, trembling exhale. The priest started to bob his head, sucking off and then diving back down slowly. 

"I - I - I - " Father Hale hummed around his cock, prompting him to continue. Stiles groaned, though, loud and shameful, and he brought one of his quaking hands to press over his eyes, trying to ground himself. 

"I firmly intend with the h- _help_ of your son -  _Jesus Christ_.” he sobbed, a hand clutching his own hair. He peeked his eyes open to look down at Father on his knees, his face barely pink, eyelashes resting softly, darkly against his cheek as he fit Stiles in his throat. “Father, please,” he tried to beg, “I - “

Father Hale pulled back with a wet popped, a viced hand taking his place to keep Stiles squirming in his chair, the young man’s hand falling to under his seat again. “That’s not right.” he chided, voice only a little hoarse. “What do you intend?”

"To sin no more." Stiles told him earnestly, and Father Hale bowed his head once more, satisfied. He didn’t take him as deep, and Stiles was grateful because he didn’t think he could have handled that. "And to avoid whatever leads me to sin." Stiles said, mind blanking, close to forgetting the rest. "And… Our Sav -  _Savior_ \- Oh,  _God_ \- Jesus Christ suffered and - Father, I’m so close.”

"Shh," he said. "Just finish up and everything’s forgiven," and he bobbed down again. Stiles felt close to frustrated tears, his body quivering, so hard and over-warm as it was. He thought he’d collapse if it wasn’t for the chair and the Father’s hands on his thigh and cock. 

"Suffered and died for us. In His name," he got out, but the priest was working him into his throat again - and he couldn’t do it. He felt everything falling so fast. "My God - I’m gonna - Have - oh, I - " and he couldn’t stop himself. He got a hand in Father’s hair and held and tugged, wanting more than life or redemption to touch him. "Have  _mercy_  on me. Oh, Father, oh, Jesus, I - ” and he spilled, the priest’s mouth sealed around his cock, throat working as he swallowed it down, pulling up to get some on his tongue. 

Stiles sagged back in his chair panting, gathering his wits. Father Hale waited only a moment before surging up and forward to kiss him raw and messy. His mouth tasted like spunk, and Stiles loved it more than he could or would ever say. One hand was in Father Hale’s hair again, his other arm thrown around his shoulders to keep him close. Father’s hold on him was tight as well and he kissed brutally, lips and teeth and tongue forcing Stiles into a state of obedience that he should have saved for someone else. They broke apart; Stiles panting, the Father not. He simply grinned.

"Amen." Stiles breathed. 

Father brought up his hand to run it through the young man’s hair, fingers lingering on his scalp. “God, the Father of mercies - “ 

"What about my penance?" Stiles interrupted, still short of breath. 

The priest froze and pulled away. “Three Hail Mary’s and an Our Father.” He ran his hands through his own hair a few times, mussing it back to perfection. His voice already sounded fine and he looked completely unaffected. Stiles, meanwhile, felt absolutely fucked out and raw. He was shaky from his release and close to weepy in a way he didn’t understand at all. He tried to breathe normally for a second, staring at Father Hale, looking for some sign of what they’d done besides his wet, slightly plumped, pink lips.

"That’s it?" Stiles asked, and something inside him ached. "Is that all?"

"Stop lying so much." Father Hale added with a shrug, and he was re-adjusting his clothes, which were hardly even rumpled as it was. Stiles stood, tucking himself back into his boxers, legs still tense and coltish. He pushed down whatever it was he was feeling. Certainly, he hadn’t expected anything to happen after this - he hadn’t even expected  _this_  to happen. “And zip up your pants.”

Stiles did so, embarrassed again and already feeling guilty. “Okay, I’ll - “

Father Hale stood and slung an arm low around Stiles’s waist, holding him still for a moment. “Stiles,” he rumbled, voice soft and sweet, and he kissed him again, but this time with a tenderness that hurt worse. Pulling away, he straightened Stiles’s shirt, fixed his hair, let a hand curl around the back of his neck. “I absolve you of your sins.”

"You - " and Stiles shook his head a little. "Amen."

The priest turned the young man to the door and gave him a little goodbye pat on the ass. “Go in peace. Send the next one in.” Stiles looked back at him over his shoulder, and the Father returned the glance, seeming fond. “I’ll call on you sometime soon. Whenever you feel is convenient. Just let me know - you know where to find me.”

"Yes, Father," Stiles hushed, and walked out the door.

Kneeling in his pew, reciting his penance, he could feel God’s love and forgiveness light his chest afire, burning away pangs and aches. 

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless tumblr plug: [My Blog](http://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com/) Apparently I do (really slow) prompt fills now.


End file.
